Invincible

Last night,
two alpha dogs faced off in battle.
One of them was me.

Only one of us would emerge the Victor.
It was him or me.

I entered this battle
with a perfect record of 6 matches, 6 wins.
This is what I had at stake.
I was loathe to lose
and soil my spotless record.

I had to win.

The match was an ugly slugfest.

My strategy was to cut off his oxygen,
to give him no hope,
to frustrate him,
to let him see only darkness,
reduce his odds of success,
to burden him with doubt...

In so doing, I played tight,
I did not Flow,
and I missed shots,
there were distractions,
the tables, bar boxes, were pure garbage.

At the end,
after two and a half hours of chessmatch,
I ruled the day.
(5-2 vs. Tony Bigbee, skill level 7)

Seven matches played, seven won.
I remain undefeated.
Alone,
at the top.

In all of San Diego APA 8-ball,
with more than 1600 players,
there are only 84 (less than 5%)
who are ranked Skill Level Seven
which is the highest skill level possible.

I'm one of them.

As of this time,
now past the middle of the session,
I have won more matches than any other Seven,
and I am undefeated.

---

It is early morning as I write this.
I woke up after only 4 hours sleep.
The adrenaline of last night's victory
still pumping hot in my veins.

More juicy than the victory itself
is that it takes me to the highest point.
Victorious in every contest.
No matter the opponent,
no matter the venue,
no matter the conditions.

In the Fullness of Time,
it has come to pass that
I walk among the Sevens as One of Them,
and, for this moment,
I am undefeated.
I fear no one.

After last night's match,
El Maestro shook my hand,
looked at me squarely,
and in all dead seriousness said:
"No one can beat you."

Wow.

---

Invincible:
The Legend of Fast Mikie
On the Path of Truth and Beauty in
The Art and Science of Billiards
as taught by
"El Maestro" Tony Sorto

story told by
"Fast Mikie" Michael McCafferty

Email now to reserve your
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To Become a Seven, BE a Seven

In the early afternoon of yesterday,
as I was preparing myself mentally for
another APA team 8-ball match,
I was struck with this simple thought:
"To Become a Seven, BE a Seven."

The "Seven" of which I speak
is the highest skill level for APA 8-ball.
Currently, my skill level is six.

It is easy for non-Sevens to see Sevens as
high-priests of pool, exalted beings
who perform magical feats with ease.
Achieving the remote pinnacle of Seven-dom
seems to be almost hypocracy, unthinkable,
or at least, earned only after a lifetime of effort.

Or is it?
The Zen approach puts the Seven within all,
waiting patiently for us to see it, believe it,
and let it blossom.

This, then, was my thought of yesterday afternoon.

It is easy to see a goal as beyond our grasp.
This is a Western way of thinking.
Work hard to earn what we want, over Time.
Eastern philosophy speaks of a different way:
that we need not pursue happiness, because
we are already happy,
or, priorly established in that which is
Happiness Itself.

It was a beautiful day when I learned that,
many years ago.
And yesterday afternoon I relearned it,
as it applies to pool, and Seven-dom.

So, instead of putting the achievement of Seven
outside of myself,
something that I was NOT YET,
I allowed myself to think that I am already Seven,
and that in order to become a Seven,
I simply allow myself to BE Seven-like.
To think, act, move, talk and feel like a Seven.

Last night I won my match, 5-1.
(vs. Richie R., skill level 6)
This is the same score as last week,
and, like last week, the only loss
was self-inflicted.
I knocked the 8 in early, on a miscue.

This means that in my last two matches,
my opponents have earned exactly zero games.
I would love for that to continue!

And yet, I was not pleased with my performance.
Will I ever be?
Will "Seven" ever be enough?
For that answer, I am reminded of
the words of San Juan de la Cruz
which first struck me so hard when I first
read them in the preface to
Carlos Casteneda's "Journey to Ixtlan":

The conditions of a solitary bird are five:
The first, that it flies to the highest point;
The second, that it does not suffer for company,
not even of its own kind;
The third, that it aims its beak to the skies;
The fourth, that it does not have a definite color;
The fifth, that it sings very softly.


It was 25 years ago my then-girlfriend
presented me with these words
which she lovingly penned in calligraphy
on parchment, and mounted for display.
She knew then the answers
to the questions I have had many times since.

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Focus vs. Concentration

Concentrate

A. to bring all efforts, faculties, activities, etc., to bear on one thing or activity

B. to come to or toward a common center;

C. to become more intense, stronger, or purer.


Focus

A. to concentrate: to focus one's thoughts.

---

So much for Dictionary.com's meanings of these words.
For the full definitions, click on the underlined word/links.

The reason for a fuller analysis of these words is because
El Maestro and I went at it yesterday on the keys
to success in pool.

I have always used these words interchangeably,
and, based on the definitions above,
you might see how I could do that.
But in the pool world of El Maestro,
these words have different meanings.

It was only yesterday,
after 3 years of my dogged determination to learn
did I finally press the issue
when he told me that I have NEVER YET
been focused in a pool match.

Needless to say,
this was a stinging rebuke,
and my first and natural reaction was
to completely reject his hypothesis.
But I suspected it might be some language issue
(what with him being Honduran born and raised
and English being his second language)
so I pressed for a more complete analysis of his meaning.

For an example of "focus" he offered his own performance.
When he is playing a match,
he does not recognize distractions,
never talks,
never shows emotion
even on the rare occasion of a missed shot.
He never sits down,
never recognizes any person
even if they come up to him during a match.

He is a rock.
There is nothing in his mind except the table.
He never looks at his opponent,
even when he (the opponent) is shooting.
Instead, El Maestro will tend to the tip of his cue,
which may be one reason why he gets fewer hits per tip
than anyone I have known.

In comparison,
he tells me that I have some need to be a nice person
and talk with those who talk to me,
that I show emotion during the game,
that my attention wanders all over the place
from the TV to the spectators, players, loud noises
and shiny objects.
In short, I am a mess.

I complain bitterly to El Maestro
that his characterization is excessive,
and that surely I must have had at least one match
when I had good focus?
No.

Ouch!

In fact, he says, it is his judgement that
I have probably never been focused in my life.

What?
Impossible!
Surely my successes in yoga, business and aviation...
landing an open cockpit biplane in a high crosswind
on a narrow runway...
Was it all just luck?

Now he's pissing me off.
Who is he to negate my ability to focus?

Well, actually,
he's the best pool shooter I have ever seen,
so he just may have some basis for his assertions.

It may be time for me to assume some humility
and listen up.

El Maestro suggests that,
maybe I might want to actually try to focus
and see how my game improves.

I am reminded of Paramahansa Yogananda's quote:
"The results can not be achieved
unless the experiment is made."

So, with some humility,
and great determination,
I agree.

He challenges me to a race to 7 in 8 ball,
followed by a race to 7 in 9 ball.
In complete silence, and total focus.

We go hill-hill in 8 ball,
and in the last game I do an offensive safety.
He kicks at his 8 and sinks it cross corner for the win.
My focus was not shaken even though he
visibly marked the cushion with chalk
where he needed to kick at the ball,
(totally illegal)
and even though he did not call his pocket.

In 9 ball, I won 7-2.
Again, in complete silence,
even though there were several times
when he sharked me by moving in my field of view
while I was shooting.

His antics, of course, were a test for me,
and not his usual style of competition.

---

Concentration, in the world of El Maestro,
is what is needed at the time of shot-making.
If something happens to interrupt the concentration,
then, without losing focus,
one simply restarts the shot routine.

So, maybe Focus is "big picture"
and concentration is "little picture".
But you can't have concentration without focus.
Lose concentration, and you will probably miss the shot.
Lose focus, and you will probably lose the match.

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Excuses

APA team 8-ball night again...

All day long, I'm thinking I'm going to lose,
because all day long I'm thinking of excuses.
I'm actually thinking of writing a list
of all the excuses that apply to me, personally.
I almost convince myself that it would be good therapy.
Just once.

As game time approaches,
I realise that I absolutely MUST pull out
of this negative thinking downward spiral.
The only way to do that is to
force myself to think positive thoughts.

Before I start with the positive,
I visualize all the excuses,
written on a list,
and I burn the list,
and watch the smoke disappear
with all my excuses...

This is a technique of
Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP).

Now back to the positive thoughts,
I focused on the reasons why I should win.
I think of a few things like experience and knowledge
and skill and intelligence, and the I wonder if
the first letters of those words spell anything,
so I arrange them in different orders
until I come up with a good one:
Skill
Knowledge
Intelligence
Experience
Sorto

S - K - I - E - S

That's easy enough to remember.
(for an open cockpit biplane pilot like me)
So, over and over in my head
I'm thinking SKIES,
and saying the words each letter represents
and filling my head with the thoughts of a winner.
Soon, I'm thinking of other reasons why I should win.
Creativity.
Track Record.
Life Experience.
Wisdom.
Touch.
Karma.
But enough about me...
And I need to keep it simple and focused.
SKIES is good enough for now.
It's the best I can do on short notice.

Tonight, Seth was out to get me.
Same skill level.
Quiet, methodical, good shooter.
He will be a tough opponent.

Or would he?
Does the competitor really matter?
I have been coming to the conclusion
that the opponent is irrelevant
and therefore not to be feared.
Do not look in their eyes.
Give them no power.
It's nothing personal.
Their role is simply to re-arrange the balls,
when/if I miss or need to play safe.

My focus has zero to do with the opponent,
and 100% to do with the table surface, rails, and balls.
Period.

The game of pool is all about green and gray.
The table's green cloth & the brain's gray matter.
Eliminate all other elements
and you have the recipe for success.

These are my thoughts,
over and over.
I'm breathing deeply to relax.

At the lag for break,
I lay the ball within a half-inch of the rail.
But I lose the first game.

I hate when that happens!
;o)

I win the second game. We're even.
He wins again, and now leads 2-1.

I'm thinking I need to bear down...
I win the next 4 games and the match, 5-2.
There was a break and run in there somewhere.
That felt good.

I feel good that
my techniques for dealing with excuses
and for positive thinking
seem to have worked tonight.

After one of the last games in the match,
I felt that I was ahead, but was unsure of the score.
I wanted to check with the scorekeeper,
but El Maestro's teaching came back to me:

Ignore the score.
It is irrelevant.
If I win, someone will tell me.
If I lose, someone will tell me.
There is no need to know the score.
How can it contribute to my game?
Will I play better because I know the score?
Focus only on the table.

El Maestro was right.
(What else is new?)

---

A note about skill levels:
I'm currently listed as a 6 in 8-ball (7 is highest).
The APA uses some secret formula
which takes into consideration all sorts of stats
like matches played and won,
number of innings, runs, safeties, and
the skill levels of your opponents
and who knows, maybe the phase of the moon.

My goal is to achieve the highest skill level.

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From One Thing Know All Things...

This past Thursday night was another APA match.
The ball re-arranger was Joel,
who I have played before, and won,
but it was close.
He shoots fast and true,
so El Maestro's advice was to slow down,
and the strategy was working,
but the best of strategy will fail
if I miss, and I did.
He didn't.
He won.

It was the tiniest of tables, a toy.
Lots of clusters in 8-ball.

As soon as I entered the place,
I wanted to get outta there.
(It's the hermit in me!)

The night before I played straight pool
and had some good runs
and overall I played well,
winning both matches by wide margins.
So I should have been strong for Thursday.

I was jittery and apprehensive on the drive north,
but with controlled breathing exercises
I was able to calm my body/spirit
in time for the match with Joel.

I haven't seen him for at least a year,
and as he walks up to me to say hello,
he's coughing and gravelly-voiced,
explaining he's been sick as a dog for weeks,
and me being a germophobe,
the last thing I want to be doing is
breathing his exhalations and getting his bug.

What's with all the head trips?
Why do I allow myself to think other people's thoughts?
El Maestro's advice has always been
to not look them in the eye,
not communicate with them,
ignore them.
It's not about them,
it's only about me, the table, the balls.
He has told me more than once
that I have some need to be seen as a nice person,
and that this is a weakness
which will lead to defeat.

I must learn to completely ignore my opponent,
my surroundings, my past, my future,
everything that is not
Here
(on the table)
and
Now
(preshot routine to follow-through and stay down).

As Miyamoto Musashi said, so wisely:
"From one thing know all things,
From all things know one thing."


(Miyamoto Musashi, the greatest of the samurai)
and one of my favorite philosophers

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Be Prepared

Fast Mikie, as a Boy Scout!

Another Saturday at the pool hall...

I hardly had a chance to warm up
when El Maestro matches me up with Ken J.
who I have faced before
most recently in my Big Win
of almost exactly one year ago.
I won both matches at that meeting,
on the way to winning the tournament.
(click here for that story)

This time Ken J. evened the score
with a 7-3 victory (9-ball).
Ken J. is a very strong player.
I did not play well.

I have noticed in the last several weeks
that my performance curve seems
to start out low and then improve
as the games wear on.
This means I need a way to get into
total focus mode right from Jump Street.
Gotta work on that...

We took a break for some severe gluttony
at the Mexican restaurant nearby,
and upon returning to the pool hall
there was PJ (last Saturday's match)
waiting for a chance to even the score.

I was not expecting this.
I figured I had competition done for the day.
And here I am fat and sluggish again
after an enormous meal.

In the Wild West
a victorious gunfighter
never had to face the same opponent twice.
Not so in pool.
Opponents keep coming back.
There is no peace.
Eternal preparedness is mandatory.

So, again I am caught unaware.
I'm thinking this is El Maestro's plan
to teach me some lesson
in the psychology of the game.

PJ wins, 7-6.
Again, I did not play well.
This pretty much gets PJ even
after my win last week at 7-5,
so El Maestro calls for a "rubber match"
to settle it once and for all.

At this point, I'm almost dead on my feet,
but I can see that there is no escape,
and I will just need to find the strength.
I was hot, dehydrated, low blood sugar,
and very tired.

One of my favorite general-purpose solutions
to unexpected circumstances is to
"Do what you can, and fake the rest"
so I took some water,
a bit of hard candy to re-energise,
and tried to imitate a focused pool shooter.

It must have worked
because I won 7-2.

My day of pool lasted 10 hours
and my back was killing me.
Thirty eight years ago I had spinal surgery
in a failed attempt to fix a herniated disc.
Since then, just standing for any length of time
is a painful challenge.
So pool tournaments are a love/hate thing with me.
It's just another excuse for losing, if I let it.
I gotta get over it, don't I?

As a Boy Scout,
I learned to "Be Prepared"
and I need to bring that into my game.

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Saturday Night at the Pool Hall

El Maestro and I are shooting 9 ball for a few hours,
when some young movie star looking guy
starts talking with Tony
and all of a sudden I've got a match.
Race to 7 games in 9-ball.

This ain't no beauty contest,
so I've got nothing to worry about.

With the flip of a coin, I break,
and after several turnovers,
I win the first game.
That feels good.

And then it begins...
He wins the next game,
because I scratch on the nine.
And he wins the next game,
because I leave the nine in the jaws.
And then he wins the next game,
because I have no idea why,
by now I'm almost in a coma.
It's 3-1 his favor.

My spirit is unfocused.
My energy is low.
My mind is unclear.
My mojo ain't happenin'.

I was sluggish from a big Mexican meal.

I felt like Rocky Balboa,
on the ropes,
taking a heavy beating.

It just won't stop.
He hammers me again.
It's 4-1.

And again!
It's 5-1.

Lesser men would have already given up.
By this time they would simply be pushing balls,
waiting for the end.

We have all seen pros on TV,
when the score is real lopsided,
against them,
they almost sit lopsided, slumped,
in a pose of submission,
a picture of undeniable defeat.

El Maestro taught me to
show no fear,
no emotion,
and certainly not submission.

El Maestro also taught me
to make adjustments.

I would just have to
increase my focus,
increase my energy,
dominate the table,
and shoot like I know I can.

Where does it come from
to be able to recover from such
great deficit?
Is it possible?

Fast Mikie,
again,
digs deep,
and speaks:
"Ok, PJ, that's enough of a spot."

Fast Mikie wins the next 6 games in a row.
And wins the match, 7-5.

When I finally got to the hill ahead of him,
6-5,
the pressure was enormous,
my body heat escalated off the charts,
my mouth got sandpaper dry.
I have not yet learned to control my physiology
but I am studying El Maestro
who has great powers in this area.

The last shot I had to go 3 rails
fully around the table for
short side position on the nine
which was frozen to the short rail.
Of course, you already know it worked,
but when I was down on the shot,
knowing I needed this to be a sweet shot
for six games in a row, and the match,
and a major-league comeback victory...
well, the stress was extreme.

It's all about the glory,
I suppose.
Mortals aspire to heroic deeds.

One thing I have learned
is that heroic achievements never occur
if one has given up.
It is the man who persists unrelentingly
who wins.

Heroic deeds require dire circumstances.
Like, maybe, being down 5-1 in a pool match?
Did I allow myself to get so beaten,
so that I could enhance
The Legend of Fast Mikie?

It would seem unlikely, but
Brinksmanship
is a game I play with myself.

I'm naturally lazy,
I resist doing anything at all
unless it is absolutely necessary,
and then, when I do something,
I want it to have the greatest possible reward.

That's when I focus like a junkyard dog.
I can persist like a mofo.
Persistence is my secret weapon.
In itself, persistence requires no talent.
Just put your head down and keep going.
"Never, never, never give up."
(Winston Churchill, during WWII)

It was a good night at the pool hall.

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